


An Old Friend

by LunaMoth116



Series: A Wider Circle (The Circleverse) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blackstone Irregulars, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Platonic Male/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMoth116/pseuds/LunaMoth116
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before wrapping up a job with the latest client of the Blackstone Irregulars, Greg Lestrade writes a letter to his old friend John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> _If you've been wondering what some of our other favorite_ Sherlock _characters have been up to in this 'verse, here's your first chance to find out! I didn't intend to even write about them this soon, and they're not going to be more incorporated until much later, but a conversation with Stef inspired this quick little interlude and I had to write it down. So, naturally, this is for her. :) Also because I'm incredibly grateful to have a friend who was turned on to Mystrade by a different fic than I was. ;) (That's not necessarily a hint of things to come, btw. :P)_  
>  _There is a (slight) reference to “A Fragment of Time” – the preceding story – here, but regardless, reading all three should help with establishing the context of this 'verse._
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** _I don't own either sandbox, I just mix the contents and hope the other kids don't chase me out._

“ _I don't like to commit myself about heaven and hell – you see, I have friends in both places.”_

_~ Mark Twain_

 

_16 August, 9:30 Dragon_

_Dear John,_

_I knew it! I'm not going to say “I told you so”...but what did I tell you? What do you need with a singing choir? I would say I can't believe you didn't figure it out sooner, but I know you better than that. I've known you for half your life – the last quarter of it mostly in letters – and you haven't changed a bit over the course of that time. Thank the Maker._

_I_ _want to say I'm happy for you, and I am, but...well, I know it's going to be anything but easy for the two of you. It hasn't always been easy so far – why start now? I hope you know what you're doing – and I think you do. I'm just glad you have some happiness in your life. You've needed that for a long time. As curious as I am about your friend, in all honesty, from what you've told me, I'm torn between wanting to meet him and wanting to never come within ten furlongs of the Tower._

_The Irregulars are still doing well, thanks, though the leadership crisis continues. You know whose side I'm on, not that I've made this clear to any of my colleagues. The last thing we need is more internal strife. Anderson, not surprisingly, is on the opposite. What's more surprising is that he hasn't joined my side just to kiss up to our noble leader. I still haven't a clue as to how he became an Irregular in the first place – think Sherlock could puzzle that one out? – though I'd bet a month's wages that Taoran was involved somehow. There's no way Raelnor would ever have allowed someone like Anderson to join this organization. And that's just one reason I'm on his side. (Though what I've heard from Kylon recently makes me glad I'm not in the guard anymore – going by what he's told me, the poor fellow's currently leading an entire squadron of Andersons!)_

_Well, what matters is that we're still getting work, and getting it done. I just completed a job yesterday, in fact, and once I've finished this letter I'm off to wrap things up with our client. I'd love to tell you more about him – believe me – but I'm being held in strict confidence. Also, as it turns out, we have a most unexpected ally. I couldn't believe it at first, but I checked the name in a couple of your old letters to be sure. You might already know this, but you probably won't believe it if you don't. That other mage you told me about, Surana? She didn't die at Ostagar! Most of the Grey Wardens did, but she and one other, a former templar, somehow survived (a mage stuck traveling with a templar – imagine that), and they met up with our liaison in Lothering, who asked for their help. (Thankfully he and our newest recruit, Patter Gritch, left before the town was destroyed.) Personally, I don't believe any of the rumors about the Wardens, and neither do the Hawkwinds – especially if even half the stories about what she and her group have accomplished since then are true. Either way, she's been quite helpful, and we need that more than ever. I think she's going to be paying the Tower a visit in the near future, though she didn't seem terribly enthusiastic about the prospect. Can't say I blame her._

_Send your next letter to my usual address in Highever – that's where my latest task is taking me. I'll be there for at least a couple weeks. If I miss it, our contact will know to forward it to Denerim. Maker watch over you and Sherlock._

_Greg_

 

Lestrade slid the finished letter into an envelope, sealed it with a dab of scarlet-colored wax, and addressed it. As he left his room and made his way out of the Gnawed Noble Tavern, he handed the envelope to the Blackstone Irregulars' liaison, instructing him to send it with the next courier going to the Circle Tower.

He hurried out the door to the bustling Market District. Within moments, he had disappeared into the crowd.

 o~O~o

Lestrade automatically raised a hand to knock on the warehouse door, before realizing how ridiculous that was, and simply reached for the knob. The door opened easily; knowing how many times that lock must have been picked over the years since the building was constructed, he would have been surprised if it could still lock at all.

He entered a large room overflowing with barrels and crates, lit sparsely with several torches mounted on the walls. The dust in the air made him cough as he began to navigate the maze of goods.

“Prompt as always, Lestrade. You continue to meet expectations.”

Lestrade heard his client before he saw him. Rounding a corner, he saw a middle-aged man, trim and with thinning auburn hair, standing calmly in the middle of a cleared space. The man was well-dressed, twirling a closed black umbrella in one hand, giving Lestrade a smile that was more perfunctory than friendly. A stunning brunette, dressed just as fashionably and expensively, stood off to his side, her expression neutral.

“I was surprised you wanted to meet in person,” Lestrade said casually as he approached the man.

The man shrugged. “Ordinarily I would send a subordinate, but there is a reason I didn't trust any of them to handle this particular task.”

“You don't trust your own subordinates?”

The thin, vaguely patronizing smile returned. “They are paid spies, Lestrade. Draw your own conclusions.”

Lestrade flushed slightly. He ought to have guessed; he'd been a mercenary for _how_ many years now? Forgetting his embarrassment – the client seemed to have as well – he moved closer.

“You're sure we're not going to be interrupted?” he asked cautiously. He'd long since lost count of the many criminal dealings he'd uncovered here in his years of service with the city guard.

“I am quite sure of it,” the man replied. His authoritative tone left no doubt in Lestrade's mind. “I trust you had no difficulties completing this task?”

“None whatsoever. And here are the papers to prove it.” He drew a sheaf of official-looking papers from his bag and passed them to the other man. “As well as to ensure that everything carried out for this task was legal.” _Even in the barest sense of the law_ , he added silently.

The man took the papers and looked them over. After a few moments he looked up, nodding with satisfaction. “Everything appears to be in order. Another job well done. Anthea?”

The woman gave a polite smile of acknowledgment and stepped forward with a sack of coins. Lestrade took it, nodding his thanks and wondering what her name would be next week.

“Most efficient of you, Lestrade,” the man remarked as he put the papers away. “I gave you what I felt was a generous timetable, and you turned out to need only a little more than half of it.”

Lestrade tried to keep his eye from twitching at the realization that he had had far more time to carry out the job than he had thought he did. Instead, he answered, “We wouldn't have lasted this long if we didn't complete things in a timely fashion.”

“And I understand the woman known as the Warden has had some hand in that?”

“She's been a great help,” Lestrade said evenly, “but she's mostly handled little things we haven't had the time or resources for – bringing us supplies, delivering messages, stuff like that. Even without her assistance, we would still find a way to do our jobs, and do them well.”

The other man nodded slightly, and Lestrade couldn't quite gauge his reaction. His tone was not impressed or pleased, but neither was it disapproving or disappointed. “We are done, then. You can expect to hear from me again shortly with another job.”

The two men shook hands. “Always a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Holmes.”

“And you, Lestrade.”

Lestrade gave him a puzzled look. “You mean the Irregulars?”

“Yes...and no.” He gave Lestrade another encouragingly condescending smile, the kind one might give a young child who was making a sixth attempt at solving a simple problem. “We have worked together long enough that I feel we can dispense with formality – you and I, at least. Call me Mycroft.”

Lestrade smiled slightly, his being a bit more genuine. “Well, since we have gotten to the point that you personally request me for every task you need the Irregulars' help with, I think I can do that...Mycroft.”

Mycroft's smile widened almost imperceptibly. “Very well. Give my regards to Raelnor and Taoran. And safe journey to Highever.”

Lestrade decided not to ask how he could possibly know that. “Thank you.” Just as he was about to leave, he turned back.

“Oh, and one more thing? Next time you need me for something...ask for Greg.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed._  
>  _Fun fact: Lestrade was originally going to be a fellow templar at the tower, but with the addition of Molly (and Sally, to a lesser extent for the moment), I felt like there were enough characters in there already. Also, I wanted Lestrade to have a more active role on the outside, instead of just being in the palace guard or something. (Considering how the Warden mows down quite a few of them close to the endgame, perhaps it was for his own good.)_  
>  _And in case anyone's wondering – I did some checking, and learned umbrellas_ were _in use during the Middle Ages, though they were not common. (Most people used cloaks in bad weather.) So I think it's safe to say umbrellas could exist in Thedas. And Mycroft Holmes isn't exactly a common sort of man, anyway. ;)_  
>  _Also, an extra thank-you to OtakuElf, swiftlyfalling, Toruviel, and katydid, as well as all guests, who came by a second (or third, or fourth, for all I know ^_~) time and kindly left kudos/comments. And a special thank-you to Rioinred for the kudos and the bookmark! Squee as much as you like – I doubt anyone here minds, and I certainly don't. :) Everyone's support has been priceless. It's good to know other people are enjoying this crazy little idea at least a fraction as much as I am. :)_


End file.
